


A deer and his two lions

by griffinmoth



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Birthday Spanking, Biting, Breathplay, Double Penetration, FaceFucking, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25499029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffinmoth/pseuds/griffinmoth
Summary: The birthday boy is in his office, frowning down at a treatise that was delivered about an hour ago. He has completely lost track of time poring over it, one hand in his hair tugging at his already rumpled curls, the other holding a pen that’s tapping impatient dots onto some notes he’s taken. He’s fretting over the edits he wants to make, the counteroffer, and all the possible ramifications, when he hears a key in the lock. Only people he absolutely trusts have one, so he doesn’t bother to turn around to see who it is.“Just leave whatever you have on the desk, I’ll look in a moment,” he says with his eyes still on the desk.“Happy birthday, Khalid,” comes Hilda’s voice from the door. There’s something about it that makes the small hairs on his neck stand on end in anticipation.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	A deer and his two lions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unfroyharper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfroyharper/gifts).



> A birthday present for my friend Kai and a celebration of our favorite winky lordling. It's all self indulgent trio porn and I refuse to apologize.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, Kai <3

Even the busiest man on the continent has to take a break to celebrate his own birthday. That doesn’t stop Khalid von Reigan from doing all the work of planning the party himself, of course. His advisers laugh at him, but his insistence that this _is fun_ for him keeps them from making good on their threats to take over for him.

It also doesn’t stop him from sneaking out of his own birthday feast to attend to an urgent letter from one of his ambassadors.

Back in the feasting hall, the dancing is in full swing, tables mostly emptied of their occupants. The music is upbeat, a playful fusion of Almyran and Fodlan in reflection of the guest population. The entirety of The Officer’s Academy’s old Golden Deer house is in attendance of course, as well as most of the Blue Lions. Sylvain twirls Mercedes across the dance floor as she laughs, and Ingrid still happily chews away at her food, seated between Annette and Dimitri.

The king watches the festivities with a relaxed gaze, eye taking in the smiles and the diverse dancefloor. He watches Dedue get dragged into the fray by an eager Almyran girl, and Mercedes break away from Sylvain to dance with Ashe. Notably, he doesn’t see Claude- no, Khalid (he’s still getting used to that) anywhere. Last he saw of him, the crown prince of Almyra had been trying to dance with every guest at the party, or so it seemed.

There must be some expression on his face, because when Sylvain turns to wink at him, he ends up raising an eyebrow at him. Dimitri feels a sheepish smile stretch his cheeks as Sylvain peels away from the crowd back toward him. Ingrid is already giving the poor man a suspicious squint, and he doesn’t help his case by wiggling his eyebrows at her. Dimitri has to hide a smile behind his hand.

“What’s up, boss?” Sylvain asks, settling on the opposite side of the table.

Dimitri shakes his head. “Our host seems to have disappeared.”

Sylvain’s eyes go wide, and he turns right around to scan the crowd. He does a full sweep of the hall before his eyes rest back on Dimitri’s face. He shrugs helplessly. “So he has. Where on earth is the birthday boy?”

“I might have an idea.” Sylvain and Dimitri’s heads turn in unison at the sound of a smug feminine voice. Hilda appears from goddess-knows-where with a glint in her eyes. Dimitri and Sylvain glance at each other and a dangerous looking smirk forms on Sylvain’s face. He stretches his hands up behind his head as he turns back to Hilda.

\---

The birthday boy is in his office, frowning down at a treatise that was delivered about an hour ago. He has completely lost track of time poring over it, one hand in his hair tugging at his already rumpled curls, the other holding a pen that’s tapping impatient dots onto some notes he’s taken. He’s fretting over the edits he wants to make, the counteroffer, and all the possible ramifications, when he hears a key in the lock. Only people he absolutely trusts have one, so he doesn’t bother to turn around to see who it is.

“Just leave whatever you have on the desk, I’ll look in a moment,” he says with his eyes still on the desk.

“Happy birthday, Khalid,” comes Hilda’s voice from the door. There’s something about it that makes the small hairs on his neck stand on end in anticipation. As he straightens up in his chair, he hears two sets of footfalls, neither of which are Hilda’s. The door closes. One large, blue-gloved hand touches his shoulder, gently squeezing at a tight muscle and drawing a groan out of him. A flash of red hair appears at his shoulder, and Sylvain’s smug face appears in his periphery.

“Thought you could sneak away and do _work_? On your one day off a year?” Sylvain tuts his disapproval, and Khalid feels his stomach drop down into his intestines. What shows on his face, though, is a cheeky smile.

“I didn’t sneak! I walked out with my courier, head held high.”

Dimitri squeezes his shoulder again, a second hand lifting to the other, massaging with just enough strength to hurt beautifully. Khalid feels his eyes roll back in his head, and hears Sylvain chuckle darkly. Oh yes, he knows he’s in trouble.

“Imagine how disappointed I was, to realize you had left without dancing with me?” Sylvain’s pout is evident in his voice. Khalid knows exactly what it looks like even before he sees it. “And here I thought you would have missed me.” The cavalier’s hand slips easily in through the folds of Khalid’s royal attire, intimately familiar with it. His touch is warm and heavy, and between that and Dimitri’s hands on his shoulders, Khalid gives up on gripping his pen. Sylvain hums a sound that tells how pleased he is with himself, and Khalid feels the familiar thrill of rebellion grasp his heart.

“Well you looked so busy dancing with all of my female house staff, I thought-” he cuts off with a gasp. Dimitri’s fingers are wrapped in his hair and tug hard, until the prince is forced to look upward at the king. There’s nothing but kindness in the one uncovered blue eye, and that sends a shiver down Khalid’s spine.

“We’re not playing those games today, beloved,” the pet name as always spikes through Khalid like a spear and leaves his knees weak, “you’re meant to be spoiled for your birthday and we intend to deliver.”

“As if his highness of Almyra would ever let it be easy,” Sylvain snipes in. At some point he’d planted his ass right on Khalid’s desk, and unbuttoned his shirt even more. There’s a nice view of chest on display there, all lance-toned muscle and soft red hair. Khalid licks his lips as he stares at it, prompting chuckles from both Faerghus men.

“When was the last time you were anyone but Prince Khalid?” the redhead asks, his voice softer, less teasing than before.

Khalid feels his jaw set stubbornly. “I have to-”

“So the last time we were able to visit, then.”

Khalid feels as if he could breathe smoke out of his nose, but he can’t deny the truth. His eyes try to look past Sylvain’s hips to the treatise he’d been reading, but Sylvain grabs him by the chin and guides his gaze back up into honey-brown eyes. “It can wait. It will wait.”

Khalid feels Dimitri’s hands carefully undoing the wraps and fastenings of his formal coat. “It seems I have no choice in the matter,” he quips, lifting his hands up, palms out, in defeat.

“That’s right, you don’t.”

That statement seems to be the true call to action. All at once Khalid is being thoroughly manhandled, two sets of unfairly strong arms pulling off his coat, his shirt, lifting him out of his chair- his heart is already racing and his traitorous face is flush as he’s settled back down onto Dimitri’s lap. It’s funny, he notes, how small the chair looks with Dimitri in it instead. He smirks up at the king of Faerghus, and joys in the blush that spreads across his pale face. Nimble archer’s fingers tangle into long blonde hair and _pull_ , making Dimitri groan deliciously.

Behind Khalid, Sylvain kisses lightly across his shoulders, hands grazing his sides. Too gentle-! Surely he knows it, too, if the smile Khalid can feel is any indication. “I don’t think he’s learned his lesson, Dimitri,” Sylvain purrs. His hands grip Khalid by the hair and drag him sideways as those too-light kisses move to his neck. Khalid feels goosebumps rise all down his spine.

“I think you’re right, love.” Dimitri replies, and there goes Khalid’s stomach back down into his gut.

“What lesson? I don’t recall having a lecture today,” Khalid replies, batting his dark eyelashes. “Did Teach come with you?”

There’s a creak and some clatter of movement and the warmth behind Khalid is gone. Sylvain’s face appears over Dimitri’s shoulder, and he grabs Khalid roughly by both wrists, dragging him forward toward Dimitri. Their noses touch and Khalid nervously chuckles. Stupid! He gnaws at the inside of his cheek. As if he hasn’t kissed this man a thousand times already! Yet he feels his heart racing as if he hasn’t, as if the silks being wrapped around his wrists to bind him are something utterly new. He swallows, and sees Dimitri’s eye flick down to watch his throat bob. A still-gloved hand traces up the length of his spine and Khalid’s hips roll forward and down in response. Dimitri chuckles and pulls him into a hungry kiss, grinding back upwards and making no secret of how aroused he already is.

“Like we’re still incorrigible teenagers,” Sylvain commentates. Once again, Khalid can hear the smirk in his voice. He tests the knot around his wrists, wanting to reach out for Sylvain, to yank him or tease him, but the binding holds fast. Sylvain laughs, stroking his fingers through Khalid’s hair and making him moan against Dimitri’s eager mouth. “Cute that you tried.”

Khalid grumbles, but it doesn’t last. Dimitri catches his lip between his teeth, and between delighting in the pain of it, and the soft growl, Khalid’s insides turn to water.

As if knowing exactly how much he wants more, Dimitri pulls away then, smiling warmly and pleasantly flushed. He bumps his forehead against Khalid’s. It’s such a sweet gesture, but Khalid doesn’t want sweet this time. He leans in quickly, trying to steal another kiss, and Dimitri pulls back, raising an eyebrow. A dangerous shine starts in his eye, and he takes Khalid by the hips, pushing him back and away, just enough to make space.

“Who do you want to give your punishment, Khalid? Sylvain, or I?”

Oh that is dangerous. Khalid’s heart returns to corporeal form but only to flutter against his ribcage. Either of his lovers can be so cruel when they choose to be, and the glint in Dimitri’s eye is telling him that the king is in exactly the kind of mood to ruin him. Ever unable to be compliant, Khalid only smirks, playing a little with Dimitri’s hair in spite of his bound wrists.

“Why can’t I have both?”

Which essentially signed his death warrant, he’s sure of that. All according to plan. Because of course he planned for any of this. If he says it often enough, maybe someone will believe that. It’s hard to feel like he’s losing in any way after all, as he’s lifted away from Dimitri long enough for Sylvain to open his dress pants and yank them halfway down his thighs. He hears Sylvain hum appreciatively, and cop a feel, squeezing a thigh before taking a handful of ass. Khalid turns to smirk over his shoulder at him. Sylvain snaps his teeth in imitation of a bite.

The room spins as Khalid is manhandled back down into Dimitri’s lap, but this time, he’s belly down across his knees. Like a child ready for a spanking. “Aren’t I a little old for this?” He turns a cocked eyebrow up toward Sylvain.

“Why don’t you tell me, when it’s over.” Sylvain winks back at him and Khalid feels the flush on his face darken. He doesn’t break eye contact though, he maintains that much dignity. At least until the first spank falls. Dimitri’s hand is hard and heavy, though the sound it makes against Khalid’s skin is dulled from the glove. Sylvain tuts, and moves to sit back on the desk, taking Dimitri’s hand and removing the glove. He’s delicate and reverent about it, making Khalid wait, and making Dimitri fluster. Khalid can hear the way the king’s breath quickens, the soft sounds of fabric sliding across skin. First one hand, which Khalid feels resting against the small of his back, then the other. There’s a moment of silence then, and Khalid strains to hear. There’s a soft wet sound, and then a low moan out of Dimitri that vibrates Khalid’s bones.

“Sylvain,” he hears a warning sigh from Dimitri, and a hummed question in response. When he hears the slick sound of fingers being removed from mouth, he knows what the cavalier is up to. Khalid can picture it clearly in his mind, in fact, and it makes him squirm on Dimitri’s lap. Two more hands settle against his skin.

“Patience,” he hears Sylvain chide. Khalid opens his mouth to backsass, when the sharp clap of skin against skin hits his ears. The sting hits him a moment later. He grinds his teeth against a reaction, though he feels a heat starting under his skin that’s more than just the blush on his face.

“Count.” He hears the order, unsure which man said it. He breathes.

“One.” It’s as controlled as he hoped it would be. Of course that means the next slap is harder. Khalid forces himself to breathe slowly.

“Two.” The next one is from Sylvain, he can tell. Three is Sylvain as well. Four is Dimitri… he tries to keep track. It helps him stay focused and controlled.

At ten he loses track of which spank is from whom. His ass burns, and his body shivers. Did he have to ride anywhere tomorrow…? Eleven catches him vulnerable, and a pathetic moan echoes around his office. There’s a moment of reprieve, just a hand (Dimitri’s?) rubbing softly and soothingly against his bruises, and the sounds of movement. Khalid lifts his head to see Sylvain crouching in front of him. He only gets a glance before he’s kissed, Sylvain’s mouth searingly hot. Khalid leans into it, sloppy and soft. Sylvain chuckles and strokes Khalid’s cheek as they break.

“Good boy.” Something clicks in Khalid, his eyes re-focusing on Sylvain’s stupid handsome face. He wets his lips, trying hard to remember what it was he meant to say, and wondering why his body feels a little off to the left. He watches in what feels like slow motion as Sylvain looks up and past him to Dimitri, and nods. Khalid knows what’s coming, but the next smack is still jarring, sending him hard back into his body. He shudders, gasping out the number twelve.

A warm kiss is pressed to the corner of his mouth, and Khalid moans again. He tries to reach out, and remembers that his hands are tied just as the both of them bump pointlessly against Sylvain’s chest. Khalid pouts and opens his eyes, trying to appeal with a look. Sylvain shakes his head, stroking Khalid’s face with adoration that belies the pain he’s helping to cause. “Not this time, _hamsar-am_.” The use of the Almyran pet name Khalid usually uses for his Fodlan boys sends his mind careening again. A helpless shudder forces his eyes closed. Khalid feels his chest vibrate, and he’s sure he’s called Sylvain’s name but he doesn’t quite hear it with his own ears. He feels lips against his own again, but Dimitri doesn’t pause this time. He can’t count with his mouth preoccupied, but that doesn’t seem to be a problem. Khalid is a swinging pendulum between sharp stings and dull aches, with Sylvain’s hungry kisses underlying it all.

When the pain ebbs to a slow pulsing throb and no more spanks are forthcoming, Khalid realizes he probably got as many as his new age. He smiles languidly against Sylvain’s lips. There’s a soft wet sound as they break apart, and Sylvain’s strong fingers trace down Khalid’s throat. They rest there, lightly wrapped around his neck, As Sylvain looks up, presumably to see Dimitri. Khalid can only see Sylvain’s lap where he kneels. Those light fingers are teasing him, a promise of something more and in spite of the state Khalid is in, he feels just enough sauciness left to tempt fate.

His bound hands hang down, and it’s easy enough to lift them forward. His own fingers are forcibly laced together, but he brushes the backs of his knuckles along the obvious bulge in Sylvain’s trousers. Quicker than expected, Sylvain’s hand catches Khalid’s wrist, slowly pushing his hands away. He squirms and fights against it, but the prince is at a disadvantage.

“Should have known he’d still have sass in him,” Sylvain comments, and Khalid turns his face up with a playful smirk. Some of his hair has fallen into his face, and he can feel it sticking to his forehead. He must be quite a sight, because the look in Sylvain’s eyes make him feel like a prey animal.

That thought prompts a barking laugh from him, loose and absolutely sincere. A deer, at the mercy of two lions, that’s all he is. He’s still giggling as Dimitri hoists him upright and sets him down facing him once more. He raises an eyebrow, and Khalid can see Sylvain’s concerned expression out of the corner of his eye. He shakes his head. Dimitri smoothes some of his curls back away from his face. “I’m fine, just… feel a bit like dessert on the table, that’s all.”

The Faerghus men accept this answer and their worries ease. Khalid feels something warm and tight squeeze his heart. Dimitri kisses his sweaty forehead and one last giggle flutters out. Perhaps Khalid is a bit more sex-drunk than he thought he was. “I think that’s a good thing,” Dimitri comments carefully.

“I think that means we should take a bite of him,” Sylvain responds from behind Khalid again. The smirk that flashes onto his face gives Khalid’s preference on the matter away but before he can regret his lack of control, there’s teeth where his neck meets his shoulder. Khalid groans and shudders in Dimitri’s arms.

“Is there any part of me that _won’t_ be bruised tomorrow?” He attempts to sass, but part of it comes out as a gasp. Dimitri’s tongue drags across Khalid’s throat and kisses the opposite side of his neck. Sylvain breaks away from the biting with a chuckle, squirming the rest of Khalid’s clothes and boots down and off. Khalid is acutely aware now that he’s completely naked between two still-clothed men. Well, Sylvain’s shirt is all the way open now, but that’s about as far as he got. A little shiver of vulnerability rides up his spine again, but Khalid isn’t ready to give up his dignity. That has to be earned. Sylvain and Dimitri know it, too.

Dimitri is still gnawing a nice mark against Khalid’s pulse when he feels Sylvain’s fingers gently nudging against his ass. They’re warm and slick with oil, and there’s a moment of pause there, a chance for Khalid to protest. The warmth around his heart tightens all the more. Of course Sylvain can’t see his face, and any verbal responses may be unclear, so Khalid shows his impatience by arching his back and pushing back against Sylvain’s hand. He hears a pleased chuckle as warning before the slow burn of being stretched open takes over his senses.

Sylvain is methodical and careful as always. Khalid hates it. All that wonderful spanking and now he has to _wait_? He whines and squirms, bound hands tugging at Dimitri’s hair as if that will do anything at all. The king presses his lips to Khalid’s ear and whispers. “Relax.” His voice deep and soft caresses Khalid’s mind and shivers down his spine.

“Right,” he whines in response. “Sure, easy.”

Sylvain punishes his backsass by adding a third finger without warning, making Khalid yelp. Dimitri’s hands become as aggressive as his mouth, roaming over Khalid’s skin. Rough squeezes to his thighs, greedy handfuls of torso, and equal pinches to his nipples pair with Sylvain’s fingers and leave Khalid seeing stars.

He doesn’t intend to voice the pathetic “ _please_ ” out loud, but out into the world it goes. Dimitri grabs him by his bruised ass and crashes their lips together. Khalid’s howl is muffled into the hot mesh of lips. Unfair! He wants to say, but he’s busy opening his mouth to Dimitri’s insistent tongue.

Sylvain presses in closer behind him, the loose fabric of his unbuttoned shirt tickling Khalid’s back, and his fluffy red hair tickling Khalid’s cheek. “Good boy,” that praise again! Khalid feels himself clench around Sylvain’s fingers, and then relax all at once, nearly going limp. He feels himself grumble, some half-hearted attempt at a comeback. When he feels Sylvain’s fingers pull out, his grumble becomes a full-hearted whine. Once again, both lion boys chuckle at him, and the only revenge Khalid can get in the moment is to suck Dimitri’s lip into his mouth and chew on it, which really isn’t much of a revenge.

Below his lifted body, Khalid feels Sylvain fussing with Dimitri’s dress pants, and that soothes his grumpiness, even if a part of him wishes he could undress the king and still have fingers inside Khalid. Even a skilled lay like Sylvain has limits to his abilities, it seems. He breaks from kissing Dimitri with a gasp and a groan.

“No, really, it’s fine, take your time,” he’s practically panting as he says it, but the sass still lands. He can hear Sylvain sigh behind him, and smirks right at Dimitri’s exasperated face. Sylvain lands a slap smartly on Khalid’s poor abused butt. Khalid squeaks and leans up higher, putting more of his weight on Dimitri’s chest in an attempt to move away. It buys Sylvain more room, maybe that was his intention all along. When Khalid opens his eyes again, they meet a playful smirk on Dimitri’s face. There’s that glint of danger again, shining out of that one blue eye. Khalid’s face warms all over again, but he manages a cheeky smirk and a wink.

He knows Sylvain has finally freed Dimitri from his pants when he sees the king’s eye roll back up into his head and close. His lips part in a pretty little gasp and a colorful blush forms on his cheeks. Khalid can hear the soft sound of slicked skin against skin to confirm what he already knows. Anticipation has his toes curling as he watches Dimitri react to Sylvain’s touches.

Again Khalid feels soft hair brush his face. “Go on, sit back down,” comes Sylvains coaxing words. Khalid bites his own lip and lowers just a little, until he feels both cock and fingertips nudging against him.

“What about you,” he pauses to ask, turning his head to try to see Sylvain. That gets Dimitri’s attention, his dazed expression sobered a little. With the both of them staring at him, Sylvain feels rather helpless, and Khalid knows it. He can see the struggle on the redhead’s face even out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ll stay busy,” he retorts, but that doesn’t satisfy. Dimitri shakes his head so Khalid doesn’t have to, and gently swats Sylvain’s hands away. Suddenly, Khalid feels himself lifted by strong hands on his thighs, and instinctively he grabs on with his legs, wrapped around Dimitri’s waist as he’s carried over to the little bed he keeps in his office for emergency naps. It’s not remotely big enough for three grown men. That doesn’t stop Dimitri from gently depositing Khalid onto it so he can finish stripping off his pants. Khalid meanwhile makes “come hither” eyes at Sylvain, who smiles and shakes his head, but moves to join them.

Sylvain leans over Khalid, one knee braced on the bed as he bears down on him. Khalid kisses back, pouring his gratitude into the mesh of their lips and the slide of their tongues. Sylvain moans against him, and he knows he’s done a good job.

The bed caves next to him, and large hands rest against Khalid’s hips. Hair tickles his shoulder blades, and a soft kiss is planted at the nape of his neck. Gentle hands touch him from both sides, and the sense of being overwhelmed starts to slowly build again. Sylvain unties Khalid’s hands with gentle care, massaging his wrists to get the blood flowing again, and Khalid grabs greedily for him. That chest has been on display and untouched for too long, and Khalid means to fix that.

His groping doesn’t last long before he’s being repositioned, dragged into a kneeling position by unmatched strength. His heart flutters, knowing how easily Dimitri can just move him however he wants. On his hands and knees, he peers up at Sylvain’s face, taking in the rare expression of unbridled love he sees there and ruins it by lewdly licking his lips. Sylvain laughs, sitting on the bed to remove his own dress pants as Dimitri pulls Khalid’s hips back toward him. A moment or two of pawing and playfulness later, and Khalid gets what he wants: both of his Faerghus boys at once. He eagerly leans forward, dragging his tongue lightly over the tip of Sylvain’s cock. A tease, as ever. Dimitri behind him braces himself for the third time, but this one is the charm. The nudge becomes a proper push, and Khalid’s whole body erupts in goosebumps as he’s filled.

It’s a slow, gradual build, Dimitri easing into it with careful thrusts and Sylvain letting Khalid take his time to be a tease. Hands are still all over him, petting his hair, stroking his back and thighs, and every caress chases away a thought until there’s nothing on his mind but these men. The smell of Sylvain’s woody cologne, the heat of Dimitri’s cock, the taste in the air are so close to drowning out everything else.

He must have a distant look on his face, because he’s drawn back to the moment by Sylvain’s voice. “Hey, Khalid.” Gently he guides Khalid to look up at him, brushing his thumb over the prince’s chin. Khalid feels a shiver. “You okay?”

This time as the warmth tightens around his heart, Khalid feels a soft noise puff out of his nose. He nods, tipping his head down to kiss Sylvain’s thumb. “More,” he implores, turning blown out pupils upwards through his lashes.

“Mmm, you heard the birthday boy.” Sylvain’s smug voice is turned toward Dimitri. Khalid wishes he could see his face too, the way his pupil likely swallows up his iris, the flare of nostrils and the smile. Oh, that sweet little smile Dimitri gets when he’s about to completely ruin him. Khalid pictures it in his mind just as he feels Dimitri slide back, almost all the way out, and grip his hips.

This time, Khalid really sees stars. Dimitri’s pace is brutal and _perfect_. Any residual distractions from the moment are muffled to silence. All there is in the world is Dimitri fucking him senseless, and Sylvain. Khalid reaches out, bracing his hands on Sylvain’s hips instead of the bed and dragging him closer. His mouth greedily fills itself, Khalid swallowing down around as much length as he can handle. Sylvain and Dimitri’s moans mingle together the same way sensations start to blend. All he feels is full, stretched, and pulled more taut than a bowstring.

Dimitri finishes first with deep breathy moans, and drags his fingernails lightly over Khalid’s back, soothing and encouraging. He stays buried deep and bent over, murmuring praise and encouragement as his hand works Khalid’s neglected cock. It’s so much, too much, and Khalid’s fingers dig bruises into Sylvain. He whimpers as he bobs his head, throat sore and tears stuck in his eyes but he refuses to stop. Even when his own orgasm hits hard, crying out around Sylvain's cock, he doesn't stop.

Just when he starts to feel his arms trembling, he feels Sylvain take a hold of his hair and his shoulder. “Allow me?” He asks like he’s offering a dance but Khalid knows what it means. He whines and stops moving, just relaxing his jaw open and turning his darkened eyes upward. Sylvain takes over for him, fucking his mouth with precision, just rough enough that Khalid struggles to catch his breath. Sylvain shudders as he comes, his hand tight in dark brown curls. Khalid hums contentedly, swallowing and swirling his tongue.

Exhaustion overtakes him and his arms finally give out, causing him to faceplant into the bed. He’s as pliable as clay as Sylvain and Dimitri shuffle around, wrapping him in a blanket and sitting him across both of their laps. He leans against Dimitri’s chest, cheek pressed against one large pec muscle, his legs draped over Sylvain’s lap where his calves are being gently rubbed. He licks his lips and feels how swollen they are, and squirms around happily in his little cocoon.

“I saw a cat with that exact expression once,” Sylvain teases him. Khalid winks, making Dimitri laugh, and he feels the rumble of it vibrate directly into his skull.

“Happy birthday, Khalid,” Dimitri adds, and it sounds super deep, with his ear pressed against the man. He feels a kiss land on top of his head, some blonde hair falling in front of his vision. He hums and slowly closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Made some small edits because I noticed things that needed adjustment. I wrote this in basically a fugue state in two days so I'm not surprised I did some goofs.
> 
> Thanks so so much to everyone reading and enjoying! Felt good to finish a fic again and it feels even better to know you perverts enjoyed it. Much love <3


End file.
